


and it all went down the wrong way

by iooiu



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, 進撃の巨人 | Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan (Movies)
Genre: Gen, That's it, i need domesticity and this is my excuse, it's pure shit, just the kids doing shit, levi is everyone's dad and no one can convince me otherwise, that's all of it, this is my biggest regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24744940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iooiu/pseuds/iooiu
Summary: They are soldiers; yes. They have to fight for their lives and the lives of others; yes. They have the burden of the entire world on their shoulders; yes.But they are still children, and despite being children who've seen too much and heard things they've shouldn't have, they're still just that; children.aka little fuckers(small snippets of life as insanely strong kids being foolish and having fun at the expense of their superiors' sanity)
Comments: 36
Kudos: 137





	1. Routine

**Author's Note:**

> if you like good fics then maybe don't read this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just like every other day, except like not really.

_Training Corps_

Mornings were a dreadful terror.

Even before their conscious refilled into their bodies, screams shot through the air and the aches and pains they were previously oblivious to returned at full force.

The sun hadn’t even come _out_ yet, and almost everyone already wanted to cry; or at least Eren knew he did. The air was sharp and crisp, cutting into their lungs and seeping into the warmth provided by their blankets. Only the bravest of men could simply tear the cloth off and get up from bed to the onslaught of cold chills. It gave him nightmares just _thinking_ about having to step out into the freezing morning air, and only strengthened his resolve to huddle closer into his blankets.

Surprisingly, it was Jean who possessed this other-worldly power to be able to get up so swiftly. He was by far (to Eren at least) the most asshole of a person he’d ever met, and yet without fail he managed to get up every damn day at the crack of dawn, only to start prodding everyone else up too. Because it wasn’t enough that he was able to easily slip out of his bed and prepare himself for the upcoming day, but he also had to push the buttons by forcefully waking everyone else up too (probably so he could bask in his glory). It would have been a nice gesture, being considerate enough to wake his fellow cadets, had his poking and prodding not been so damn violent.

If Connie so much as _grumbled_ about waking up Jean would yank off his blanket and throw it out the window, along with his pillow and uniform. If Eren so much as _twitched_ in an effort to bury himself deeper in the confines of his bed, Jean would grab his leg and bodily haul him away from the blanket him and Armin shared and throw him onto the cold floor. Franz got a pillow to the face, multiple times with deadly force. Thomas was kicked in his ribs. Reiner got a bottle of three-day-old freezing water poured into his mouth (Jean almost bought it after that, but then Reiner got a hold of himself and actually _thanked_ the shit-eating fucker). Bert, with the joint help of a now awake Reiner, was thrown outside along with Connie’s blanket.

To say mornings in the boy’s bunker were hectic would be an understatement.

Eren muttered darkly from his place on the floor, feeling the hardwood press against his bare arms and legs, and caused him to shiver. No point in staying on the floor if it was going to elongate him suffering, he kept repeating to himself as he convinced himself to move his ass off the ground. As he finally (begrudgingly, and with a lot of scowls) got up, he caught the sight of Jean gently shake Armin’s shoulder, urging the blonde to wake up with the care and consideration of a fond older sibling.

Oh yeah, Jean also played favourites.

After he finished coaxing the blonde awake, Marco got a soft nudge and a whispered warning to get up before the shower’s got too full and Shadis would come yelling his vocal cords out on them. And though Eren didn’t _want_ to harbour negative feelings over why the two boys got nicer treatment, he still couldn’t help but seethe in rage as Jean finally managed to arouse his freckled friend out of slumber.

“Eren, if you keep scowling like that, you’re going to get wrinkles.” Armin’s voice called from beside him, the blonde stretching his arms above his head with a content sigh. The perfect and preferable way to wake up in the mornings. His scowl deepened as he yanked the blanket off the blonde and aggressively started folding it.

“Easy for you to say,” Eren grumbled, finishing with the (horribly folded) blanket, he began snatching his clothes with more force than necessary, and earning a confused stare from Armin.

“I’ll get him back, just watch.” He muttered under his breath, teeth grinding together when Jean trotted outside to the bathhouse, all high and mighty like the absolute _dick_ he was. “One of these days I’m going to fill his uniform with horse shit and stuff it under his pillow, and I’m going to be able to die happy knowing he suffered.”

“Isn’t that a bit extreme.”

“Armin.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t get to talk.”

. . .

If they weren’t busy throwing soap at each other and fighting for the shower nozzle with the warmest water (it always ended in regret, as someone would end up slipping on the wet floor and hit their head), morning showers went relatively smoothly. A big reason why was because no one wanted to be caught late bathing and have Shadis barge into the bathhouse with a fucking _baton,_ threatening to beat them shitless under the stream of water to drown out their cries.

(Connie had almost _fainted_ when he had taken too long getting out, and never failed to be the first one to leave after that incident.)

(Eren always wonders why Connie even took that long showering that he ended up being late. It’s not like he had a lot of hair to begin with. Hell, he was a toe nudge away from being completely _bald._ )

Changing was another breezy step in their routine, and only really became a shit-storm when someone couldn’t find their clothes and tried peeling a uniform off of someone else.

(Bert had _cried_ when he couldn’t find his jacket, and promptly started clawing Reiner’s off in an attempt at self-preservation. They ended up finding his under one of the bunks, and then the tall teen cried _again_.)

(Shadis was fucking terrifying, so no one could really blame him.)

Breakfast was short. All the heavy ‘warm-ups’ (everyone scoffed at that, because normally half of them were dying on the ground by the time those finished) drills were done in the wee hours of the morning, so that the rest of the day could be solely devoted to training exercises and heavy-duty drills involving endurance.

Sasha always loudly complained about the lack of food in the morning, and was always silenced with an icy glare and threats of no dinner. Mikasa often offered half of her own bread, though, and whether or not it was because she wanted the girl to shut up or because she wasn’t hungry was beyond anyone’s imagination.

By the time noon rolled around, everyone was sweltering and gasping for breath (well, almost everyone. There was Mikasa and Annie, who were monsters that didn’t know what ‘tired’ meant, and astonishingly, Ymir too.)

(Halfway through their third month of cadet training they realized she just hid behind the cabins after her third lap, and reappeared to complete the last set of the few hundred they were assigned.

Shadis had been livid when he found out, and Ymir’s gruelling punishments made everyone think twice about trying to pull a stunt like that.)

Ymir never expressed any regret in her actions though.)

In the end it was all about practice; enduring through strenuous times so that they would emerge stronger than before. Everyone knew that these exercises were going to be beneficial in the long run, but that long-term knowledge didn’t make breathing any easier. Eren prided himself in his long-lasting energy and burning will to barrel through any and all hardships thrown his way, but this wasn’t a hardship. It was a fucking _meteor_ of hard. Not a ship, no. A fucking. _Meteor._

He could barely feel his legs and his shirt was soaked through the back with sweat and water (he had eventually just said ‘fuck it’ during their five-minute break and dumped his canister over himself), chest heaving with the effort to draw in enough oxygen. His only reigning positivity coming from the fact that Jean wasn’t fairing any better. Beside him, Marco followed Eren’s example and dumped his own canister over his head, while Mina’s knees finally gave out and she melted to the floor alongside Hannah and Nac.

No one could blame them.

Lunch came and went (read: Sasha’s prowl for uneaten food came and went).

At the very beginning of their Training Corps enlistment, every cadet of the 104th was given a timetable to memorize, a full list of their weekly torture all set and written in a single slip of paper that most lost by the third day. Every day of the week was given an explicitly long and gruelling training regimen, topped off with academic classes in the evenings before dinner (though why they would put classroom learning at the very end, when everyone was on the verge of death or closing in on it was beyond him).

More painstakingly hard training drills.

Academic learning.

Dinner.

And then it was their leisure time.

They had an hour or so to chill, wind down, clean up, read, sleep, a _nything_ really that they would want to preoccupy themselves with until lights out. Crazies like Mikasa and Annie sparred as the sun set, Marco played his guitar (they had been allowed to bring a handful of valuable objects from their home, seeing as they would be separated from their families for years on end), Jean and Franz and Nac actually sat down to sew on occasion, Hannah and Mina chitchatted with Krista (and by default Ymir too) in the cool shade of some bug-infested tree (not that they cared), Armin read and Eren listened.

Or well, he tried, but the fact that Jean was sewing kept nagging at his attention, and every time he looked back to the shit-eating horse doing something so girly in front of the bonfire, he couldn’t help but let the ridiculousness of the situation settle in. He chuckled in his fist when Jean pricked his finger, and earned a raised eyebrow from Armin. The blonde followed his line of vision before huffing in exasperation.

“I don’t understand why you don’t like him.”

“Armin.”

“Hm?”

“You don’t get to have an opinion.”

. . .

Nightly routines involved brushing teeth, spitting at Jean (toothpaste and all) and changing into their nightly attire before rearranging their sleeping positions. On their first day, the cadets of the 104th Training Corps were given simple instructions (after their traumatizing debriefing on what the next few years would look like) to set up their bunkhouses and choose a bed to claim for the rest of their time there.

Of course, arguments ensued, but after multiple screaming matches and someone almost being flung out the door, everyone got a bed that was satisfactory to their wants. The bunks were doubled, side by side with a small space in between, with the top following the same pattern (except they closed the gap, though it wasn’t surprising they didn’t want the cadets falling on each other in the middle of the night).

Eren himself slept beside Armin on the top bunks, above Reiner and Bertolt, but most nights found that two Shinganshina boys in the same bed, mimicking the position they’d sleep in as refugees back when they were little. Connie was also a clingy sleeper, and Thomas had to suffer having the life squeezed out of him (though he was too nice to say anything). Jean eagle-spread all over his bed and had his leg and arm thrown hazardously across Marco, who just slumbered curled in on himself. Reiner slept like a log and looked like one too; legs straight as he lay on his back with his arms crossed, looking a lot like some corpse being lowered into his casket.

Franz held Nac’s arm like a little kid, and in turn Nac smothered his head into a pillow and used his stomach as a cushion. Mylius slept like he wanted to sink into the bed and never come out.

Bertolt was… a special case.

They would wake to find the tall teen in the most unimaginable positions probably not even possible for a normal human being, but he somehow managed (yet during post-workout stretching the teen could barely touch his own toes). Connie started joking about comparing the different positions to the weather, saying how it was an omen on how nice it would be outside. And Lord help them if he slept like a normal human being, because that’s when a storm would hit them so hard the bunkhouse would quake. So yes, they used the tall sweaty teen as their weather monitor.

Which became engraved into their morning routine soon after the discovery that this revelation was actually startlingly accurate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow i can't believe i'm writing attack on titan fanfiction in 2020, but in light of the new trailer, i present to you my utter garbage. completely self-indulgent but hey, if you like it then at least I'm doing some good.


	2. Big Brother Reiner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Reiner really likes helping his comrades out, and subsequently becomes everyone's unofficial supportive older sibling.

_ Training Corps _

Reiner was known for being everyone’s Big Brother.

He was, after all, very big, and very brotherly.

It had been strange at first, because everyone initially assumed Reiner would be some big-shot, loud-mouthed asshole based on his large stature and undeniable strength. But he was quite the opposite.

The first to learn of this was, surprisingly or unsurprisingly, Eren Jaeger. During the first week of Training Corps, every trainee had to undergo examinations to see if they were fit to participate as a soldier. It was best to weed out the weak and unworthy at the very beginning, rather than filling bunks with hopeless idiots not made for the grueling military lifestyle that was the Training Corps.

Beyond physical examinations and mental berating, there was also the need to test the trainees’ ability to use the 3DMG, because it was impossible for someone to go through training with hopes of graduating without that particular skill, it just wasn’t possible. And though people slowly but surely became acquainted with the skill, whether it was from natural talent, raw and undeniable luck, or hard work, it didn’t really matter as long as they produced desirable results in the end.

Eren did not, however, end up producing any sort of positive results. If anything, he was going downhill with his progress.

So when the boy had come, a bandage wrapped around his head and a pleading look in his eyes, he had expected Reiner to laugh and wave him off like Connie and Jean had. So it was to his pleasant surprise when the big blond boy easily agreed to help him.

That was the beginning of Reiner's Big Brother reputation.

After that, it was unavoidable to not recognize the boy’s natural appeasing nature and supporting attitude, added on with his talent in the field, the title actually fit him quite well. And he took it in stride.

Someone bothering you? Reiner will gladly beat them up no matter how many there are.

Cold at night? Just shiver a little bit and you’ll find yourself with an extra blanket in the morning.

Not enough food to fill your stomach? Ah, Reiner, back at it again with a generous amount of his soup being poured into yours.

Struggling with studies? Well, Reiner wasn’t the most academically inclined, so he’d probably send you off to Armin or, if you were a sucker for suffering, Annie.

Looking out for the little guys, he’d say humbly, though anyone with eyes could see that Reiner was fond of his position within their squad, and compared to him, everyone was little, so no one was ruled out. Except for Ymir, because that girl was as cold and she was tall, and Annie, who generally did not like people to begin with.

Once upon a time, Sasha attempted to smuggle food out of the kitchens after lights out.

Reiner had been on laundry duty along for the boys, along with Bertholt, and was finishing up with hanging the clothes when he saw the girl crawling behind the mess hall, slinking in the shadows like the world’s worst thief.

“Sasha?”

She jumped, clamped her hands around her mouth to keep from screaming in freight, and stomped her foot on her other foot to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Reiner? What are you doing out here?” She aggressively whispered once she was sure her heart palpitations had slowed to a reasonable beat, hands coming down from her mouth to rest on her hips.

“I’m doing laundry. What are  _ you  _ doing this late?” He asked, not taking notice of her very clear route to the kitchens, or her very clear obsession for food. You could call him dense if you were mean, or you could call him a little slow on the facts, if you didn’t want him to know that you were talking about how dense he was. 

You would be right on both accords. 

“I’m looking for a midnight snack.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Okay.” Another pause. “You want help?”

Sasha stood, dumbstruck at her stroke of luck for bumping into Big Brother Reiner, and grinned.

“We’ll split fifty-fifty if we get in.”

And so, instead of one trainee slinking through the shadows like the world’s worst thief, there were two trainees dodging the guards on watch and running around in the shadows of the moon and candlelight like little kids.

They made it to the kitchen, Reiner hoisted Sasha up so she could get through the high window, and promptly backed into the shadow to catch the food being thrown down.

The next morning, after grueling training and cumbersome drills, the cadets found themselves at lunch, with a small black market being set up in the corner of the mess hall.

Sasha was distributing a disturbingly large amount of dry crackers and canned beans and cheap cheese, gleefully eating the extra rations herself while others gaped at the all the access food.

“Dig in guys! It’s not everyday we see so much food!” She yelled, and everyone dove in, clawing for the stolen food.

Sasha ended up saving a packet of crackers for Reiner, and slipped it in his bag as a thanks while they were hounded for stealing food and forced to run laps around the fields until they collapsed.

Once upon a time Marco had caught the light sickness that had swept into the training corps like cold fingers trailing down the backs of the unfortunate. Pre-winter influenza kicked in earlier than usual, and several cadets had already caught it. Armin had been the first, followed by Thomas and Jean, and then Daz and Connie, and finally sunk its teeth into sweet innocent Marco.

Marco had been on stable-cleaning duty with him that week, and apologized profoundly from his hospital bed, promising to make it up to Reiner somehow.

“I got it in the worst time, Reiner, I’m so-” A sneeze, “-Sorry. Now you’ll have to clean the stables all by yourself,” Another sneeze. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Marco probably meant it too, because he was just  _ that _ nice and genuine.

Reiner just shook his head and grinned, patting the sick boy on the head good-naturedly.

“Don’t worry about it, just focus on getting better.”

Ah, bless Big Brother Reiner.

Once upon a time Connie couldn’t reach the top shelves of the storage room, even with the stool provided to him. His hand brushed against the second highest ledge, but he was unable to go any further. That’s how Reiner found him, on his tiptoes draped along the shelves trying to stretch his arm like an elastic band.

“Trouble?” he asked, crossing his arms and leaning on the door frame.

“Yes!” Connie groaned, giving up and hopping down the stool with an annoyed huff. “The stupid shelf is too high and I can’t see anything up there.”

Reiner, being the tall and strong cadet he was, offered his assistance.

“But, you don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Just get on my shoulders. It’ll be easier.”

And so Connie clambered onto the teen’s broad shoulders and was hefted up effortlessly, and suddenly the shelf was under his gaze. As was the hanging light that hit his head, but he was too optimistic to get down on something like that.

“Wow, thanks man!” And after that, Reiner became Connie’s personal ladder.

Once upon a time Reiner tried to be helpful, and could clearly see Armin struggling to keep up with the rest of the group. He sped up and easily lifted the pack from his slender shoulders, water clogging in his boots but warmth filling his chest when he saw Armin gasp for breath at the feeling of being lighter.

“Focus on catching up.” He panted through each breath.

“But won’t you get points deducted for helping?” Armin gasped back, blinking rainwater out of his eyes.

“Only if they find out.”

A few seconds passed, and then he heard angry muttering, and then the pack was taken back, and then Armin rushed to catch up to the rest of the group. Reiner was dumbfounded, but shrugged and picked up the pace. Later he complimented Armin’s endurance, and knew he made it up to the small blonde when he got a big smile and thanks in return.

There were many instances where Reiner helped out like the Big Brother he was known to be, and if anything it fueled his want to be able to help his fellow comrades. 

So when Eren came to him one day with bright eyes shining with determination, asking him to spar, how could he refuse?

“What’s this need to spar anyways? Getting your ass kicked by Annie wasn’t enough for you?” Reiner joked, following the boy to the open field where they usually practiced hand-to-hand combat and sword fighting techniques. 

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t get your ass handed to you too.” Eren shot back, getting into his stance eagerly. “I just wanted to pay back the favor, you know, for all the bruises Annie gave me. It was technically your fault. I also wanna’ test out this new move.”

“I got bruises too.” The blonde muttered, but shifted his legs to a wider, sturdier stance, and lifted his arms above his chest.

Later that night, Reiner nursed Eren’s sprained ankle and bruised pride at being dragged through the dirt.

Yes, in the end, when Eren grumbled about how ‘he was going to get him next time’ and thanked Reiner anyways before bidding him goodnight (without helping with the clean-up), he decided being everyone’s Big Brother was worth it.

. . .

“Eyy, Reiner!” Ymir stalked up to him, slinging an arm over his shoulders. He finished choking on his meal at the sudden assault before looking at the tall girl who had enough assholery to fill a landmine.

“Ymir? What do you want?”

“Ah, well, you see, my foots’ been hurting since I woke up, so I was wondering, you being everyone’s big bro and what not, if you could take over my shift for cleaning the bathrooms?”

Okay, so maybe it was only half worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man idek   
> big bro reiner is my jam


	3. Honesty is the Best Policy, or Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not cheating unless you get caught.

Let it be known that Sasha definitely did not poison their teaching professor’s food.

She swore she didn’t mean to, that it had been an accident, that it wasn’t really her fault, that there was no proof it was her; anything she could come up with to prove her alleged innocence spewed from her mouth carelessly and without a care for the countless contradictions. Of course, no one really cared, in fact, some were grateful that Sasha’s stupidity managed to put their professor in a bed for an indefinite amount of time. If anything, it would give them time to study for the upcoming pop quiz that they just found out about.

And it wasn’t like they could blame Sasha and get away scot free of trouble even if they wanted to, because technically they were looking over said pop quiz’s questions because Connie had found the professor's notebook in the wooden desk up at the front.

And they couldn’t really blame Connie for stealing and manage to bypass any punishment because it had been Ymir who picked the lock of said wooden desk’s drawer with one of Mina’s hair clips.

The blame, by then, would have been found to be so widely dispersed amongst the cadets of the 104th that the entire group was guaranteed a grueling punishment just shy of death in the form of several hundred push-ups and climbing trees in nothing but underwear.

So yes, to save their skins (all of their skin) they stayed quiet while Connie finally pried the book full of the quiz questions from the aforementioned desk, holding it gingerly like a glass carving; precious and worth every life in the classroom and then some.

“Well, don’t just stand there, read them out loud.” Jean shot out in annoyance, pencil hovering impatiently over his paper.

“Guys, this is a bad idea. What if we’re caught?” Krista worried her lip, eyes darting to the door. Ymir waved off the concern in the form of a long arm around the blonde’s lithe shoulders.

“Don’t worry about it Kris, that old son-of-a-bitch won’t be walking for another few days thanks to Potato Girl’s stupidity.”

“I keep telling you guys it was an accident!” Sasha wailed from behind them, planting her arms over her desk in despair. 

The accident involved tripping over Franz’s feet while they were on cooking duty that weekend and spilling flour all over the floor. In a state of panic (because everyone knew how sparse food was, especially quality flour that didn’t taste like grass), she scooped it up in her hand and began kneading it into the bread. Specifically, their professor’s soon to be bread.

But nobody blamed her. It was viewed as more of a blessing than an accidental slip up.

“Connie! Read the damn questions!”

“Okay, okay.” Connie drawled, flipping to the first page of the four that were covered on quiz questions.

Though some found the act of cheating heinous and ‘bad’ (“We’re going to get in so much trouble, just watch, this is morally wrong- wait wait Connie repeat that last one, I didn’t catch the end of it.”), everyone ended up shamelessly (or shamefully) writing down the questions with more vigor than in any other lesson they had taken.

By the end of the whole question reveal, two people were crying, someone passed out, and almost everyone was panicking because  _ holy shit I had no idea this was going to be on here what the fuck who was paying attention because I sure as fuck was NOT- _

“Did we even learn where our different fuels are manufactured from?” Nac murmured to Thomas, who was flipping through his notes feverishly. You could almost see steam coming from his ears.

“Oi Bertolt, you took notes on everything, right?” Reiner leaned in closer, gripping the tall teen’s shoulder with a tight-lipped smile. “Mind lending me those for a while.”

“Eh? You don’t get to pull the ‘best friend’ card on him. I want to see them too!” Mina cried out, already leaning on her desk to get a peak. Bertolt looked like he was going to melt, and already seemed like it with the sweat dripping from his hairline.

“Hey Armin, you have notes. Gimme some.” Eren whispered as to not attract attention, peaking at the blonde with pleading eyes.

“Eren, I can’t just let you-”

A tug on his shirt from his right revealed Mikasa pushing herself closer as well, pen in hand and ready to copy off his extensive paperwork. He sighed and opened up his book, or well, that had been the plan until Sasha plopped half her body on the trio’s desk with literal tears in her eyes.

“Armin,” She whined, drawing out the syllables in his name while she clasped her hands together, “I’m begging you,  _ please _ teach me everything. I’ll… uhm… I’ll give you my rations for a week! Or… oh! Oh! I’ll take over your stable duty! Anything you want! Just  _ please _ save me from failing.”

Because failing a test proved that you weren’t listening in classes, and though classroom work was not as heavily marked as physical skills and capabilities, a severe punishment was promised to anyone who failed, which ranged from scrubbing the the kitchen floor clean with your own toothbrush to having to take all your showers in the ice-cold lake for the rest of the month.

Quite unpleasant.

Jean clasped Marco on the shoulder good-naturedly, grinning a wide-toothed smile and patting his freckled friend on the back.

“Hey,  _ Marco _ ! My best friend! My knight in shining armour. My favorite person! Would you mind blessing me with your notes?”

Marco laughed lightly and opened up his notes like the saint he was, but the room was full to the brim with thieves drawn to the smell of easy passing grades. Almost instantly, Marco was swamped with Connie’s flailing arms and Hannah’s eager look. Mylius shyly took a seat across from him, while Franz and Historia joined Armin’s group. Ymir silently plopped herself before Bertolt alongside a red-faced Thomas.

It would have been okay. It was like having three study groups all drooling for knowledge because they didn’t want to fail and have to give up their shower privileges. It would have been fine, because studying was supposed to be peaceful and full of quiet chatter interrupted with a few questions here and there. 

It was  _ not  _ supposed to turn into some sort of competition to see who could draw Annie to their study group to prove to  _ someone  _ (cough cough Jean and Eren) that their tutor was better. Anything to one-up the other, and Reiner just had to boast about how Annie was their friend so she would obviously join them. 

Honestly, at this rate dinner would start and nothing would be learned, and everyone minus the few who were responsible (read as: nerdy enough) to take notes during class like proper students.

“Oh shut  _ up  _ Jaeger, you’ll flop the quiz even with Armin’s help. She should just join our group where there aren’t any major distractions like yourself.” Jean pointed out smugly, eyes darting to the petite (yet insanely strong like the  _ fuck  _ how are you even human?) blonde sitting in the corner, content with staring at particularly nothing (it’s not like she had notes to read from. She spent class dozing off and planning about how she was going to remove that stain off her favorite hoodie-)

“Yeah? Think you’re such a smartass? Too bad Marco can’t rub off on you a little bit more. You’re still a dumb fuck. Annie should come  _ here  _ because Armin’s brilliant and she wouldn’t have to deal with a snob like  _ you _ .” Eren yelled back, pointing at Jean as he declared his grand revolution. Jean scoffed and opened his mouth, but was cut off by Reiner, who was the epitome of over confidence.

“Please. She’s obviously going to join our group. It’s not even a question.”

Before he could even finish, Eren and Jean started spewing insults at the large blonde, bristling like wet cats, and causing Reiner to yell back in indignation to their insults. And it would have been manageable had the rest of the cadets not joined in the screaming match, further encouraging the three main idiots, mostly fueling Eren and Jean’s toddler fire.

Bertolt rested his head on his forearms, Marco tried coaxing Jean into sitting down, and Armin, done with Eren’s bullshit, sighed and began reviewing over his notes with Mikasa (who was patiently still waiting for him to continue because she did not give a flying fuck over who Annie ended up joining).

“Okay, so you got the incomes of fuel industries down, but you mixed up which income belongs to which company. Also, you might want to look over the trading companies and their partnerships again; here, I have a list.” And they continued on through the animalistic shrieking. Mikasa diligently wrote down whatever Armin said, and was on the true path to success in the form of complete notes and a passing grade. It would be so simple. It  _ would have been  _ so simple, had she not caught Annie’s eye from across the room.

See, Mikasa had some…  _ beef  _ with the short blonde teen. Beef so lean and tenderized that it could hardly be called beef to a stranger’s eye, but to her it was under-cooked and too chewy for her teeth to completely ignore (don’t worry about it; the analogy made sense to her… she didn’t really like beef to begin with). 

Annie; the little blonde bitch Mikasa loathed with every controlled fiber of her being. She was… such a pain and a showoff and so what if she also hurt Eren that had nothing to do with her little grudge-

The petite blonde got up from her seat, chair softly scraping against the wooden floorboards and yet effortlessly silencing the entire room, diminishing it to nothing more than a hushed murmur. All eyes trained on her form as she picked up her small (empty) notebook and pencil, walking through the crowd and not sparing any of the ogling eyes a single look. When she passed Reiner, he started weeping. When she passed Jean, he started seething in rage (because how the fuck was he going to deal with Eren’s bloated ego now?). And when she sat down,  _ directly across from Mikasa,  _ Eren became too frightened to cheer in victory.

The room dropped several degrees.

“Annie.” Mikasa greeted her coldly, devoid of emotion, but her eyes flared.

“Mikasa.” Annie replied curtly, opening her (empty) notebook without breaking eye contact. “Armin, start talking.”

How either girl wrote while continuously glaring at each other (no seriously they never even glanced down it was so creepy-) was beyond anyone’s knowledge. All they knew was that if Armin stopped reading out his notes everyone in the room was fucked.

. . .

“Well, I must say that I’m beyond surprised. Normally this group’s average is well below 30%, but you all did outstanding.” Their professor commenced, handing out their quiz papers without the usual disappointment in his stare. He even smiled at Connie (who normally averaged a big fat zero) when he handed back his quiz with only one wrong answer.

“I’m beyond impressed.”

The class chorused their gratitude when he dismissed them early for doing so well (they normally did very badly, so this was viewed as some miracle), and they raced out the door with an extra hour on their hands.

As the professor walked around the desks to clean up the few leftover papers and pencils littering the ground, he found a small notebook resting below one of the tables. He picked it up, assuming it was one of the cadets’ who rushed out too fast and forgot it, and he would have dismissed the thought had his very own signature not caught his eye.

There, in the corner, was his name written in immaculate cursive, and now that he mentioned it, the cover was the same worn maroon and wait, weren’t these the quiz questions he had written down before getting sick-

That night, the wails of the 104th could be heard throughout the evening and well into the night as the cadets washed themselves in the frigid lake waters under freezing rain and north winds blowing over their blue-tinted skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When has anyone NOT dropped chocolate chips on the floor and still put them in the batter after picking them up?


	4. Black, Brown and Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren shares the gift of an open neck with the two people he cherishes the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good Lord Eren is such a dork,

“And that’s how it’s done.” Eren grinned cheekily, hands on his hips as he gazed down on his work of art with enough pride to make Armin grimace for disliking the boy’s hard work. Now he felt bad about it, because clearly Eren was genuinely happy about his success, and tearing that smile off his face would be a crime against humanity. So he simply smiled tightly and nodded, feeling the lumps of hair bounce against his neck.

Apparently Mikasa was more than willing to commit a crime against humanity than he was, because he opened her mouth without remorse.

“Eren, it looks like shit,” She sighed, voice leveled with a thin layer of ‘how have you failed at braiding this is the seventh time we’ve been over this’. In Eren’s defence… well, there really wasn’t any way to defend this because he _also_ had no idea how someone could mess up after attempting to do something seven times in a row.

As expected, Eren’s grin was wiped off his face along with his hands, and after staring into Mikasa’s stony eyes, mournfully started undoing the catastrophic mess he’d spun on Armin’s head. It was a miracle he didn’t tear off his entire scalp in the process, and for that the blonde was grateful.

“How is this so hard?!” Eren growled in frustration, apologetically carding his fingers to gently tug at the tangled strands of blonde hair, wistfully eyeing the small braids hanging behind Mikasa’s ear from where Armin managed to tie the short hair. It was unfair, the talent of braiding. It seemed so simple, and in practice it was hard to actually mess up, but it was even harder to make every loop the same size and know when to pull to tighten the knots and how to measure out the proper proportions and he was just. Not. Good at braiding hair.

Eren sighed, managing to straighten out Armin’s locks and now gently massaged his probably terribly sore scalp (because he was well aware of how hard he had been pulling), and by the way the blonde hummed, Eren took it as his apology being accepted.

“It’s all about practice Eren. You’ll get the hang of it after a few tries.” Armin coaxed gently, leaning into the gentle fingers in his head.

“When did you guys even find the _time_ to get so good?” Eren asked, leaning back on his unoccupied hand and observing the way Mikasa fiddled with her own firm braids, twirling them between slender fingers and contently sitting against him. Softly and without force, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“All the time actually, you just never noticed.” Armin hummed, and Eren shook his head, ruffling short tufts of brown hair.

“I didn’t even know Mikasa was into those things.” He said instead of disagreeing with Armin’s statement because, in truth, he would be lying if he said he was one of the more observant types of people. He probably completely overlooked his two best friends idly playing with each other’s hair while he was ranting about the latest news on the Scouting Region.

Mikasa, in turn, simply tugged her scarf up to her nose and let a small rosy tint take over under her eyes. (It was always unfathomable, when people called Mikasa void of feeling and emotion, or described her as a soldier made of stone; she was so expressive in the slightest ways and all you really had to do was look in the right angle to see it.)

“Well, you don’t really need to deal with a sweaty neck, but, you know,” Armin flicked a lock of Mikasa’s hair, shorter than it used to be but still long enough for the tips to softly brush her shoulders. Still a curtain in which moisture can collect in the humid space between thick black strands and the soft skin of her nape.

“That’s true, but I haven’t seen either of you do it here yet.”

“Guess I couldn’t find the time.” Eren’s brow furrowed, and his fingers trailed down the hot skin of his best friend’s neck. That would be such a pain to have to deal with, and most girls with long hair tied it up because the heat of the summer sun made sweat collect faster, and no one liked sweating in layers of gear. Maybe Sasha could lend some fabric that Eren could give to them? He had almost forgotten the rare times his two friends would wrap their hair up; Armin’s as a little stub right below his skull and Mikasa’s as an elegant braid his mother had made for her.

Something in his gut twisted at the thought, but he felt a small smile dance at the corners of his lips as he brought his hand to rest gently against Armin’s nape.

“Say, you should do it again.” He started, and felt Mikasa’s question stare directed at the side of his face. When Armin didn’t voice his own curiosity, he continued. “I mean, like, tie your hair up. It’ll probably feel a lot better.”

“Eren, I looked so weird when I did it as a kid, imagine if I did it _now_ ,” Armin grumbled, and beside them, Mikasa shifted.

“I wouldn’t mind,” She began, “but we don’t have fabric.”

That was one easy.

. . .

“Ribbons? Yeah, I have some.” Sasha excitedly answered, disappearing in the girl’s bunkhouse in a blur, the sounds of loud rummaging audible from beyond the thinly framed door.

She came bounding back with two small strips of cloth; hair ribbons that most soldiers used to bind up longer hair if they didn’t want to cut it. It was durable and was easy to maneuver, as well as cheaper than fancy metallic pins sold in higher-end markets.

“What do ya’ need them for?” Sasha asked, her slight accent showing through in her question as she handed the ribbons to Eren, who took them gratefully. Her cheeks flushed with a tint of rose and she coughed lightly before going on. “I mean, your hair isn’t exactly long.”

Eren considered telling Sasha what he was planning, but then she wouldn’t be in for the surprise, and Sasha wasn’t exactly known for being able to keep secrets in the first place, so Eren simply smiled and thanked her, promising to give her a portion of his dinner the next time they had steamed potatoes. He leapt off the stairs and headed to the boys’ bunkhouse with new vigor.

. . .

“I look ridiculous,” Armin mumbled, fingering the… whatever Mikasa made at the base of his skull, unused to the chill of open-air against his ears and neck. It was unsettling, being unable to hide his gaze behind a curtain, his sort of shield when caught in a corner. He didn’t really hide his eyes now-a-days, but the thought of having his backup plan removed left him slightly uneasy. Not uneasy enough to erase the grin on Eren’s face when he saw them though.

Mikasa hummed in agreement anyway, despite Armin himself thinking otherwise. She looked as stunning as always, with her dark locks twisted into a braid at the top of her head and dwindling to a simple tail at her nape. The lack of raven hair revealed her sharp jaw structure and flushed ears that would otherwise be hidden, and he took comfort in the fact that she looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

He couldn’t deny the relief when it came to the lack of sweltering heat swarming around his throat, and so he sheepishly smiled back at Eren and hoped it didn’t come out too strained.

It earned him a smack on the back.

“You look like you’re about to swim in the lake; come _on_ guys, cheer up! It’s not like you have chicken necks or anything, you look cute!” And though he appreciated, it still made his cheeks grow hot at the compliment normally reserved for lithe girls with big eyes and a soft tinkling voice (Christa).

“You should do something too.” Armin offered instead. Eren’s head cocked to the side like one of those birds that sometimes flew down to survey the streets below. Mikasa pushed her thumb down in between Eren’s furrowed brows while Armin grabbed the remaining ribbon.

“Yeah, so we can match.”

“My hairs’ already short,” Eren mumbled, batting at Mikasa’s hand without heat.

“I know, but if I have to look ridiculous, then so do you.”

“It’s only fair,” Mikasa replied matter-of-factly, turning his head so the brunette was facing the opposite direction.

He couldn’t even let out a protest fast enough as he felt the ribbon rub against his forehead.

. . .

So, as it turns out, people like to stare.

A lot.

It didn’t really bother him as all Armin and Mikasa ended up doing was make a bandana run across his hairline, and he kept it on for their sakes because he knew Armin didn’t like it when people stared

Though he didn’t really need to worry, because most eyes were on Mikasa.

Where her face would mostly be obstructed by thick silk-like strands now stood the contrast of her pale skin, her jaw rippling beneath the smooth surface every time she clenched her teeth. The braid had been Armin’s doing, but he took pride in the fact that he was the initiator of the whole thing, and took credit for everything else that fell under that specific wing (which was, in fact, everything).

Armin was a lot more timid, and more often than not Eren would find him brushing back blond locks that weren’t actually there, and he would instead be met with hot skin. Eren laughed every time the boy glared at him, but then pointed to his hideous bandana that made his hair stick out more than it already did, and the glare withered down to nothing more than amused exasperation.

Jean actually approached Mikasa at lunch and, through an endless stream of stuttering and blushing, managed to get out a simple ‘I like your hair’.

And the girl, bless her, nodded, thanked him, and went back to her meal.

It was only through sheer will alone (and Armin’s harsh elbow to the ribs) that he didn’t make fun of him as Jean sulked back to his table as a flustered mess.

. . .

“You know, despite my complaining, it was actually nice.” Armin sighed, stretching his legs as the group finished their laps before dinner. “Wasn’t as hot.”

“And you know, this bandana was really working out for me. Got a couple' people asking how I still had dignity left.” Eren laughed, but did find it nice to not have to brush away stubborn bangs that normally stuck to his forehead.

“It’s efficient,” Mikasa ran her fingers overexposed ears, which throughout the day had lessened in their red tinge until they settled to a relatively normal color. “Didn’t get in my eyes.”

“Your hair gets in your eyes?”

“Well, yes.”

“Why didn’t you say anything.”

Mikasa shrugged and ended the discussion there.

. . .

And as much as Armin appreciated the change, he couldn’t stand the feeling of being so vulnerable. He felt so exposed, and having his neck (no matter what Eren tried to say, he still thought it looked like a chicken neck) out on the open had him glancing back on multiple occasions.

He shared this revelation with Mikasa, who solemnly nodded in agreement.

Eren, on the other hand, found this thought absolutely ridiculous.

“You guys are so dumb,” He mumbled, watching Mikasa undo the braid and running a comb through to straighten out the locks. Despite her best attempts, the fact of the matter what that they had gone swimming today, as an endurance exercise, and though her hair had dried up in between lunch and dinner, her hair still ended up being curlier, with the tips wisping up and down in different directions as a result of her carelessness.

Eren thought she looked pretty, but the girl herself denied this furiously.

Armin’s end result had been less noticeable, but in the end, he had kept the little stubs in as well, and though the effect wasn’t as dramatic as Mikasa’s, his blonde hair still ended up having wavy indents embedded into the usually straight style.

Eren thought it made him look cute, but one withering glare from Armin had him sighing back his words.

“You guys are hopeless.” He ended up saying instead, rubbing at where the bandana had been, and left in its wake a rather bold red strip on the skin of his forehead.

“If you want, you can grow _your_ hair out, and then both of us can cut ours and then we can do this all over again, but to you instead.” Armin huffed lightly, absent-mindedly taking a curly lock of Mikasa’s hair and letting it run down between his two fingers. (He kind of liked the style too.)

Eren pondered this idea as he did the same to the other side of the girl’s head, a smile breaching his features when he thought about how stupid he would end up looking if he did that.

“You’d look like Grisha-sensei.”

“You’re right, and I don’t want to look like an old man.”

“It might suit you.” Mikasa pointed out, flicking a stubborn tuft of brown that stuck up amongst the others, almost completely vertical, she noticed to her amusement.

“Maybe it will, but I can’t see you guys with my kinda’ style.”

“We should all try it out and see.” Armin joked, letting his hand drop and instead resting contently in Mikasa’s lap, pulling out the all-too-familiar book from under his pillow. Eren watched his flip through worn, yellowed pages, seeing pictures he’s already ingrained into his mind’s eye and yet still found joy and excitement in looking at them again.

“Oh ew, I’ll make sure to kick you if you ever do.”

“Mikasa will probably look great.”

Eren nodded in agreement, and they both chuckled at her little distressed noises she hid behind her bright red scarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm an anime-only snk fan, but even i get little snippet spoilers of the shit-show that is the snk story-line rn. Does it make a difference in my constant adoration for these three? Nope. Not one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Despite an early wake-up call to the horrors of life, the cadets of the 104th are still just kids, and kids are full of one thing and one thing only; shit.  
> (or) filling in the gaps of what REALLY happened while these little heroes weren't fighting titans or getting their asses handed to them by Keith Shadis.


End file.
